


hold me tight or dont

by Smokeygg



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mainly comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Indulgent, Sobbing, max being babey, theres not enough content of this ship, theyre a family i declare it so, this is my first fic idk how to tag lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:07:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22144603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smokeygg/pseuds/Smokeygg
Summary: Philip comes back from a bad trial and Evan comforts him.
Relationships: Evan MacMillan | The Trapper/Philip Ojomo | The Wraith
Comments: 11
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

In the darken woods, the Trapper laid against a tree. Trials were rough on his part and he took advantage of any break he could get.

Evan had just gotten back from his own trial and decided to get some shut eye before his companions, Max and Philip, returned from their trials. He'd grown fond of the pair and gradually they found themselves living together inside Philips' realm, Autohaven Wreckers. Over time they rearranged the inside of the Gas Heaven to accompany all three of them. They gathered furniture from trials such as mattresses from Lery's Memorial Institute, crayons and paper from Springwood for Max, and even an entire couch that Evan dragged from Haddonfield. It was one hell of a setup, but it was home.

Evan had decided to rest against a tree instead of on the mattress he and Philip shared because he knew they'd be getting back soon and didn't want to get too comfy knowing Max would probably want to play. He loved Max but the giant toddler was prone to forgetting his own strength and tackling Evan when he wanted to play fight.

For now he enjoyed the peace and quiet as he slowly slipped into whatever wasn't consciousness in this hell.

Suddenly Evan heard footsteps approaching quickly, followed by low growls and huffs of someone very panicked. Whoever it was pawed weakly at his arm waking him from his sleep. It was Philip. He was a mess of hot tears and panic. Worry kicked him, his rough hands gently grabbing the other's almost instinctively.

"Phil, what happened? Are ya okay?" He asked the Wraith trying to sound somewhat comforting, though it was hard with a rough voice like his. Matching his large and terrifying appearance, Evan seemed like the last person you'd go to in a situation like this. But here Philip was.

"Why are ya cryin', what's wrong?" Instead of answering, Philip let out another racked sob that shook his body violently. Evan was cruelly reminded that he was unable to speak on the account of The Entity. He could only communicate through chirrs and sounds akin to an animal growling or purring. Evan found it endearing, but at times like this, it was a pain in the ass not being able to help as he had no idea what was troubling him.

All Evan could do was try and calm down the unstable man in front of him.

He pulled the spindly man into his much larger arms, hoping that the embrace would help soothe him. Philip immediately returned the hug and shoved his face into the crook of the Trapper’s neck, muffling his sobs. Witnessing this, Evan only pulled him in even tighter; As if he was the only thing keeping Philip together.

The larger male murmured soft words into the other's ear, as he gently rocked him back and forth. He listened as the Wraith’s sobs turned to choked gasps, and then to soft whimpers as he slowly calmed down. His body continued to shake uncontrollably, as he took in small breathes attempting to recompose himself.

Philip's chest burned and everything felt heavy, he just wanted to sleep and Evan was _so warm._

Before Evan knew it, the Wraith was passed out in his arms.

Evan listened to the familiar sound of Philip purring softly as he slept. Though his body was still racked with tremors, he seemed to be calmed down; much to Evan’s relief.

The Trapper scooped up the legs of the man fast asleep in his arms and carried him to their home. Carefully, he laid himself on the mattress they shared, positioning Philip so that he was resting atop his much larger chest comfortably.

The two stayed close, much like they did most of the time outside of the trials. After listening to Philip's low purring for a while, Evan eventually drifted off asleep again. The calmness between them was one neither had experienced before. Hopefully, for the night ... or whatever it was, they'd be safe in each other in their arms, from what lurked in The Fog.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max comes home

A certain Hillbilly limped out of the fog, weapons still dripping with gore. His trial had finished up, seemingly successful, due to his mood.

"Ev! Phil! Wh-" His unnatural eyes scanned the junkyard before spotting the two cuddled up, sound asleep inside their makeshift home. Max, thinking it'd be the best idea, excitedly charged over and threw himself on top of the two. The violent force of the impact woke them both up immediately, Evan not taking too kindly to the action, at least, at first.

"Jesus fuck, Max!" Evan barked, "The fuck did I say about that shit?" Max just quirked his disfigured head to the side, looking lost as per usual. The Hillbilly noticed the grogginess in Evan's harsh tone and finally put two and two together.

"Wait, y'all were asleep?"

"Well, now we ain't."

"Ooh."

Philip chuckled as Max pulled himself off the two and trotted off to his side of the room. The Hillbilly placed his hammer and saw by his bed and sat down on his mattress.

They watched as he riffled through his chest of things and fished out his crayons and papers. “Do ya wanna see what I drawed?” Max asked, looking up in naïve wonder. Philip nodded and scooted closer to see what the younger male had created.

Max proudly presented his crude scribbles of various farm animals to Philip, who chirped in delight at his work and ruffled his patchy hair. The Hillbilly giggled and flapped his hands joyfully, “Look a’ what else I drawed, ‘t’s a surprise I been workin’ on.” Max exclaimed bashfully. “Oh? Is that so?” Evan inquired raising an eyebrow underneath his mask, the boy nodded his head and then dug out another piece of paper that he had hidden underneath his mattress.

The artwork showcased a rough doodle of what looked like the three of them all holding hands. Philip and Evan stood on either side of Max in the drawing, all three of them bore large smiles and dotted black eyes. Above the trio was a large red heart with the word “FAMLY” in the center.

Evan moved over to where Philip was seated and peered over his shoulder at the piece of art. They both regarded it in silence, causing Max to feel a swell of anxiety in his stomach. “Do ya not like it?” He asked wringing his hands together nervously. Evan snapped out of his daze and blinked back the tears pooling at his eyes. “No, no... Max ‘t’s wonderful.” He answered reassuringly, slightly trailing off as he noticed the man next to him had begun to shake.

This was all too much for the Wraith. The sudden weight of how innocent Max was fully set in. He and Evan had always known he was a little different the other killers, mentally that is. In terms of physical appearance, he fit in just fine. A disfigured monster wielding a mallet and chainsaw with only one goal in mind, to serve The Entity.

But there was more to him, he wasn’t just stupid like the other killers claimed, _he was a child._

They had only heard bits and pieces of the boy’s past, small comments he’d make about being locked in a room, but it was enough for them to understand he’d had it rough.

“Philip, love what’s wrong?” The question snapped the Wraith out of his trance and he realized he had been clenching the paper enough to crinkle it. He felt a warm pressure on his shoulder and looked to find that Evan had placed his much larger hand there, in an effort to ground him.

He glanced between the two killers staring at him with concern and suddenly felt guilt for making such a big deal out of a measly doodle.

He shook his head and shrugged them both off, hoping they’d get the hint that he was fine. “Are ya ok?” Max inquired fidgeting with his hands. Philip nodded and leaned over to place a kiss on Max’s disfigured forehead. The taller male then stood up and retreated silently outside.

Evan felt a sinking in his heart as he watched the Wraith exit wordlessly. He turned to the boy beside him, whose sideway eyes stared with wonder; ignorant to the situation unfolding before him.

“Max, why dontcha draw me another picture will ya?” The Hillbilly’s eyes lit up excitedly at the request. He nodded his head enthusiastically and flipped over one of his artworks to begin scribbling away on the blank side. Having successfully distracted Max, the Trapper rose from his seated position with a grunt and started after Philip.

\---

Philip stared up at the dark, empty sky. ‘ _Not a star in sight’_ he thought to himself frowning. That was the one thing that had bothered him since he arrived in The Fog. Back in his home country, his mother would take him stargazing every new moon. She’d point out the constellations and listen as Philip told her about his day. but now the twinkling lights he and his mother used to gaze at have been replaced by a blanket of empty nothingness.

The Wraith glided silently over to one of the many broken down cars in this junkyard. Memories of working for Azarov tugged at his mind, but he pushed them back. How stupid he felt, letting himself be used as a pawn for so many months. All the innocent lives he'd blindly executed seemed to haunt his every waking moment.

The car groaned weakly from the weight now resting atop the rusty hood. Philip laid down against the windshield, praying it didn’t collapse under him. The black endless sky stared down at him as he laid there. The hollow feeling in his chest seemed to deepen, he was so tired.

The only thing keeping him sane in this purgatory was Evan and Max, he didn’t know what he’d do without them.

_‘Evan and Max!’_ guilt washed over him as he realized how rude he’d been to just up and leave, sparing them no explanation. Slender arms wrapped around his torso as he hugged himself anxiously.

_‘Why does he even bother with you? Such an emotional mess. You’re pathetic.’_ The sudden thought made him feel uneasy and he only hugged himself tighter. _‘What would you do without Evan to protect you? You are the weakest killer after a-’_

“Phil!”

A gruff voice cut through the darkness in his mind and he sat up looking to where the sound was coming from. Evan approached the vehicle his companion rested upon nervously. Emotions weren’t exactly his forte, as he was raised by a ruthless tyrant of a father, and would be beaten for showing weakness. Having a stiff upper lip was what he was best at. Philip was the first person to make him feel, well, anything.

He didn’t understand why his heart raced when the gaunt man smiled at him or why his palms sweated when he leaned in too close. It all made no sense; Evan hadn’t felt this way in the slightest when his father would introduce him to possible suitors, no matter how beautiful or touchy they were.

The answer as to why he felt this way whispered in the back of his mind, but he blocked it out; fearing the truth.

Philip shifted his position so he was facing the man approaching him, with his slender legs hanging over the side of the rustic car. He cocked his head to the side, silently asking what Evan needed. The Trapper stood only inches away from the angular man in front of him; he was sure the Wraith could hear his heart pounding like a blacksmiths’ hammer in his chest.

“Ah, I jus’ wanted to make sure you were alright ‘s all.” Evan answered scratching the back of his neck. Philip simply shrugged and nodded his head, hoping the Trapper would understand that he was fine.

The air between them hung heavy with words unsaid. Philip took the moment to glance down at Evan’s hands, which were balled into tight fists. In fact, everything about his stance was tense. As if something was bothering him.

_'You're bothering him.’_

A look of dejection painted the Wraith’s face as he looked away, ashamed of how much of a burden he was. “Phil? What’s got ya sulkin’ now? C’mon talk to me love.” The last word hung in the air, as it seemed to echo endlessly in Philip’s mind. Evan had called him that earlier, but he had brushed it off as something the Englishman called all his close friends. Even so, his face reddened at the thought of Evan liking him _like that._

Philip finally turned his head begrudgingly to face the man before him. The Trapper took note of his darkened cheeks and heaving chest. Was he mad? Embarrassed? Evan already had a tough time reading emotions, and all of the mud and paint covering the Wraith’s face did not help at all.

Philip let out a shaky sigh and raised up his right hand to try and explain what was bothering him through sign language.

Thanks to all the spare time they had between trials, Philip was able to teach Evan how to read and sign the alphabet in ASL. This made it easier for him to communicate by allowing the Wraith to spell out one or two words without having to play charades.

The Trapper watched intently as Philip spelled out a fairly easy word, one that even someone who didn’t know ASL could decipher.

_‘L-O-V-E'_

His hand lingered in the air for a moment, with his fingers still folded in the ‘E’ position, before letting it come to rest on his lap wordlessly.

“Love? What ya crushed on tha’ heifer Sally?” Though he couldn’t see the Englishman's face, Philip could hear the smirk in his tone and his eyes went wide. Evan honestly believed that he had unrequited feelings for the Nurse; whom he’d only interacted with a couple times.

The brute received his answer in a petty slap on his bicep and barred canines hissing at him with irritation. Evan had to hold back his laughter over the sight of Philip getting so fussy over nothing.

Philip jabbed his bony finger into Evan’s broad chest, signed the same word he did previously, and then pointed to himself with a huff.

_'You love me’_

It clicked immediately. Though he was unsure if it was a statement or question, Evan was positive that was what the bristling man was trying to communicate.

“Of course I love you Phil’, I don’t know what I'd do without you an’ Max.” Philip’s features seemed to soften upon hearing this, but the crease in his brow remained. His stomach felt uneasy at the notion that Evan only felt a familial love for him. Nothing more.

Nevertheless, He had to be sure.

Evan watched as the internal conflict played out on Philip’s face, unsure what was happening and why his heart was racing at the sight. The Wraith let out a whine and bit down harshly on his thumb, a nervous habit that Evan scolded him for frequently. The scolding reminded him of his mother in a bittersweet way.

He was an anxious child growing up and often coped in harmful ways; much to his mother’s disapproval. When his thoughts became overwhelming, he’d often chew on his thumb or lip until the familiar taste of iron spilled from the abused surfaces. His classmates would sneer at this display and stray away from him. Actually, Philip didn’t recall anyone ever being fond of him. People seemed to merely tolerate him throughout his life, as if he were a passing thought. Even his own mother appeared to grow tired of dealing with him. Being a single parent was hard enough, and Philip’s anxiety obviously burdened her especially.

There was a heavy stigma surrounding mental illness in his home country, leaving the populace misinformed and bigoted towards those who suffered; including his mother. She would punish the distressed boy whenever he'd chew his thumb bloody, which in turn only made him even more anxious. It was an endless cycle, one he felt was his fault.

Yet, instead of ridiculing the trembling man or abandoning him like his peers once did, Evan stayed.

Usually when he partook in these harmful creature comforts, Evan would try to discourage the acts by keeping Philip's hands busy.

He took Philip’s wrist gently, freeing the abused thumb from its place between the Wraith’s sharp teeth. Philip watched as Evan then shifted his grasp so that their fingers interlocked loosely. “Somethin’s obviously on your mind Phil, an’ I feel like it’s my fault.” Evan remarked, thankful for the bone mask that hid his worried expression. Philip’s eyes widened and he shook his head. How could he explain what he was feeling? What was he feeling? Even if he did have a voice, he still wouldn’t be able to describe the whirlwind of emotions swirling in his heart and mind.

But maybe he didn’t need his voice.

Philip pulled the other man closer by their interlocked hands, closing the space between them with ease. Before Evan could even process what was happening, a slender arm reached up and cupped the side of his mask. The Wraith wanted him to _take off_ his mask.

A sense of dread settled within the Englishman's stomach. He’d only taken off his mask once in front of Philip, and even then, the moment had been short-lived; much to Philip’s dismay.

Philip's eyes entranced him, like pools of ivory glowing endlessly in an abyss. His eyes were soft, yet strikingly bright; Evan felt as though they were staring directly into his very soul, viewing every desire. The Wraith traced his thumb along the cheek of the bone mask as though it was Evan's own face. The Trapper was suddenly aware of how close they were, hands interlocked, practically sharing the same breath. With Philip still seated upon the hood of one of the numerous corroded vehicles surrounding them, Evan seemed to tower over him.

A soft rumbling emitted from the spindly man before him. Philip was purring; something he only seemed to do when he was alone with Evan.

The sound broke what little restraint he had left, and he reached up with his free hand to remove the bone mask.

The cool air felt strange against his exposed face. He’d grow attached to the mask, its presence on his face brought with it a strange comfort, and now its absence left him feeling restless. Evan avoided the other man’s soft gaze and instead chose to stare at the ground, clutching his mask tightly.

Still, he could feel The Wraith regarding his features intently. A cool hand cupped his cheek as it had previously, only now touching his actual skin. It felt strange. A memory tugged at the back of his mind of his mother caressing him in the same manner.

Ever since she’d died, the only physical contact he’d received was that of his fathers’ disciplinary hand. But that was then, and this was now. Philip would never hurt him. The thought brought a lump to his throat.

Philip watched closely as several emotions played out across The Trapper’s face, finally settling on a soft sadness that worried him. Before he could attempt to figure out what was bothering Evan, said man leaned into Philips’ hand.

The Wraith trilled at the sight and traced his thumb along one of the numerous scars that painted the larger mans’ face; feeling him squeeze their interlocked hands.

_‘Fuck it,’_ Philip thought.

There was no use beating around the bush anymore, if Evan didn’t feel the same, he had to know now. What was the worst that could happen? He was already trapped in hell so to speak. So throwing caution to the wind, Philip closed the space between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aw jeez I didn't even realize itd been almost 2 months since I'd last updated hdjsjfjd sorry to leave yall on a cliffhanger like this, I'm working on the next chapter I'm just slow

**Author's Note:**

> comments are what keep me writing hint hint


End file.
